No Small Parts

Got to work a little hung over.
I was out the night before with some friends for a Guiness or two. We met the "Captain Morgan" girls. A summer job promoting rum, what could be better right? The reasons for the volley ball outfits weren't entirely clear or they were entirely clear, depending on your perspective. So, anyway, there was a shot of rum in the mix as well.
When I arrived at work, the second A.D. approached me and asked if I would be willing to do a bit of acting as well as my regular duties. Of course I would, I like doing that. Then the first A.D. asked me. Then the director asked me. I've worked with Thom Fitzgerald before and he's making a fun movie about two octogenarian lesbians on a road trip to Canada.
An actress who was supposed to be doing a scene that morning had been double booked, what were they going to do? She was supposed to be playing a next door neighbour to the two older women that the show revolves around. Maybe they could make the scene about her husband instead of her and... who would they get to do that? Me.
So I got to do a scene with Olympia Dukakis!
Nervous? Yes, I was,  but it was lots of fun and she was very patient.
They dressed me up, handed me my hammer and away we went. You'll have to see the movie to see the result. It's titled "Cloudburst".

What brand are you?

Brands.
I was having a discussion with Jess the other day about how I dislike
wearing labels. Her point was that it's so overwhelming why rail
against it? And it seems that she's right. What good does it do to
complain? It's everywhere and talking about it isn't going to change
it. But it seems to me we need, at least, to notice it.
Why are people so ready to be walking billboards for the products
they consume? Because it's identity. Design defines. Maybe that's all
that need be said but let's let that statement be a little bit of a revelation. What we consume becomes our projected personality and in a
society that places so much importance on the individual and personal
freedom, personality is everything.
Product becomes imbued with meaning through advertising; we take
on meaning through consumption. Actually that's not entirely correct.
Product takes on meaning and emotion. That's an important
distinction. We are led to associate products with a variety of ideas
and emotional states, all heavily weighted towards the positive or
negative. All consumption is conspicuous.
So what does your consumption say about you?
What's in your tickle trunk that defines you? It doesn't have to have
a label, everyone knows what an iPhone is when you dig it out. Or a
Blackberry, and the fact that the word Blackberry is to be found in
the auto lexicon of this digital device I'm writing on probably has
very little to do with dietary considerations. And if they don't know
it's a Blackberry they probably don't matter anyhow.
Brands are depending on the fact that you'll associate labels with
lifestyle and we sure as hell do. Lifestyle, what is that? Take a wild
guess as to who coined that term. It was a psychologist actually,
Adler, an Austrian but, if you had asked me, I would have been willing
to bet a good deal of money it was someone involved in advertising it
dovetails so well with marketing schemes.
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lifestyle
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Commodity_fetishism

Rain of Blood

  So the other night a bunch of us are standing around the monitor
waiting for a blood gag to happen.
  For those of you not in the biz,
the monitor (or monitors) is where most of the business of film
directing is conducted. A direct feed of the image from the camera is
sent to high quality TV monitors. The director and his retinue sit at
or stand around these screens. The gang at the monitors can consist
of: the director, various producers, the script supervisor, the d. p.,
make up, hair, wardrobe, maybe the gaffer or key grip, the occasional
actor, the press in its many forms, landscapers, Calbrabrian
bricklayers, friends and family of the director and/or producer, friends and family of the director's and or producer's friends and family, and people who need information.
  Blood is going to squirt, jet really, and the jet is the result of a wound, which is simulated by squibs, which I explained in an earlier post.  The jet of blood is directed away from camera and away from video village, which is the industry name, locally, for the monitors and those around them.
  So the director yells action, and the squib goes off, and the blood jet, jets. Spectacular, and then, seconds later, the blood falls out of the sky and rains onto all those standing in "the village". We look at each other and laugh, everyone is liberally splattered with fake blood, very funny. There is no escaping the sticky shit.

The Kids on the Street

As I was out for a jog this afternoon, I passed three boys around 8 or 9 years old. One of them flipped me a military salute. I wonder what he was thinking? Is that something that kids do these days? Was he responding to my inner drill seargeant? Hard to say, but I liked it.
Then I passed two 12 or 13 year olds holding hands.
I was just talking to someone last night about how great the feeling of falling in love is. And when you are a teen.... oh, God, it can stop your heart!

Hobos, Blood, the Morning.

Hobos, Blood, the Morning.
So, the evening's work on "Hobo" finished at six AM. Going from days to nights really does a number on the body and brain.
Speaking of brains, I was worried about all of that fake blood being slippery when, in fact,it is very sticky shit and very
unpleasant to be around.
I've never though of myself as having particularly delicate sensibilities but I'm offended in some way by all this gore. Which probably, possibly sadly, bodes well for the success of the film. Why sadly? I just happen to feel that gore as a form of entertainment is a rather sad statement on the human condition. Don't get me wrong, no one would like to see these guys succeed more than I. I just can't help wishing we could be more than the common denominator. Which probably makes me a bit of a prude, as well.

The Cut

No matter how carefully you make it, the blade never comes away clean.

Guts on My Pants

My pants are encrusted with dried fake guts. I didn't even know they were there at first because the stuff is red, my pants are black and you don't see it really. But you feel it once it dries.
The guts were sprayed on my pants by a small explosive charge called a squib. They are only on my pants because I was hiding behind a piece of expensive plastic with the camera when this charge went off. The plastic was there to protect the camera and the camera crew. I was back there to brace the plastic with my hands because no one could tell us exactly what the force of the charge would be. And really, how would you go about describing the force of a charge to someone.
It would blow a butterfly off course, a robin, seagull, eagle. It would knock over a small child. Uttlerly destroy an orange.
So we put up the plastic, put in some earplugs and see what happens.
Not a whole lot, as it turns out. But guts on my pants.

Another Opening Another Show

So many ways you could take that title.
Today's filming was in the rain and the snow. The temperature was hovering around freezing. One of the P.A.'s who was new to the game was wearing 3 hoodies and was soaked through to the skin. He had on plastic bags inside his runners. He looked miserable. Not hard to spot the new guys. Still when we wrapped he gave out a war whoop that was, I think, genuine excitement at being involved in the making of this film. Again, not hard to spot the new guys. And girls. Deer in the headlights. Cute when they're small.
Should be fun. It's a gore-fest that's being produced and directed by lovers of the genre.
The challenge seems to be to invent new and exciting ways to take people apart. Some people will be offended by this. Which is the greatest publicity of all. Nobody likes to be told what they can and can't do.
I can wait 'til something heavy slips out of my hands because it's covered in fake blood.